


The Secret Of The Hargreeves Children.

by TheDarkestMindWithin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ben Hargreeves is Alive, Childhood Trauma, Crack, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gangs, Gen, M/M, OOC, Organized Crime, Past Relationship(s), Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestMindWithin/pseuds/TheDarkestMindWithin
Summary: A death in the family brings back the estranged children of Reginald Hargreeves, one of the most notorious and wanted criminals in the world.His death doesn't just bring loose ends to tie but long buried secrets to the surface along with vicious traumas not quite suppressed.





	1. Reginald Hargreeves Is A Dead Man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reginald Hargreeves, the Patriarch of the Hargreeves family.

* * *

It's a death never thought possible. They were gentle with their movements, soft in tone and swift in action. Of course they did not make it painless but it was far more honourable than had it been someone else. Someone not _blood._

They watched me with unblinking eyes as life drained from body. Cradled my body in their arms and whispered all the things they had kept perched under their tongue for all these years. I could taste the familiar metallic burn of blood on my tongue, hot and sticky in my mouth as it spilled past my lips down my chin. Pools on the cold tiles around my body.

"It's okay now, Dad," Their voice is a murmur in my ear, my sight blurs either from loss of blood or tears as I stare up at their face. I feel proud for who they are but they will never know this. I will keep what little control I am allowed under the circumstances.

They stay until I am gone, cry as I take my last breath, they chose for me to have a slow death, maybe so they had time to change their mind? I'm sure even they are not so weak. It's laborious, dying. Like death doesn't want to collect you, every breath becoming harder and still another comes. By the end they have stopped crying and they are resolved. I take my final breath, gazing into their eyes as I receive death with open arms and soul.


	2. Luther Hargreeves Is A Family Man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther Hargreeves, Golden Boy and apple of his Father's eye, the eldest of the Hargreeves children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoys this!
> 
> Without Beta.

* * *

There's rain outside, thick drops clattering loudly against the rooftops and windows, the sky is covered by thick dark grey and almost black clouds. It's quiet besides these sounds. Moments like these I sit and I take in, I am still and thoughtful. The twins and Rose still being asleep in bed allows me this. There aren't many times I miss my family, my brothers and sisters, but on rainy days like this I do. I _let_ myself miss.

I don't regret leaving, neither do they, I think. _Hope._ We couldn't have stayed the way things were, it was delusional to believe we could have. But that doesn't mean I don't still think of them. Of Vanya, wonder how her violin is going, if she ever found someone like I did, like we _all_ did, if she still takes her pills or if she outgrew them. I sometimes wish I'd tried harder to be there for her, when I see Hudson push Lin, when they make each other cry, I wish I'd done _more_ for Vanya.

Allison and I stay in contact, exchanging baby photos every now and then, we never call or meet up, it's better if we don't tempt fate. She's working and living with her husband and daughter in some big city, we don't give each other too much detail, _just in case_.

She's happy, like me, and that's almost enough to make missing her worth it but a selfish part of me will never really let her go. She knows this, we _all_ know this. Patrick's good for her though, looks after her and loves Claire, that's all I can really ask for her really.

I hear about the others through Allison. She keeps tabs on them, except for Vanya, _no-one_ keeps tabs on Vanya.

Klaus' clean now, lives with a boyfriend in a quiet city, they mostly keep off the radar, Allison thinks it's the soldier in them, _instinct,_ we joke about it because it's better than acknowledging everything else about it.

Ben stays with Klaus, he's quiet like them. Happy enough.

Diego's the loud one really. He travels with Eudora, they move around a lot, caught on cameras and on flights a lot, I don't worry about him so much now. He's grown a lot, Eudora's good for him in that sense. She cools his fire.

Five's mostly with Mum, he's too young to get into too much trouble really. He skips school, gets into fights but that's kid stuff, that's what I did, what Klaus and Allison did, he's got time so we leave him. Allison and I sometimes talk to him, when it's the right time.

It's a messy dynamic, messy way to make sure everyone's okay, _nearly_ everyone, but it's easier than the alternatives. Better than the messiness of a family home.

The backdoor slides open behind me, Hudson's bare feet pad across the wet wood of the deck and comes and sits besides me, sleepy eyes and yawning mouth, I cuddle him into my side, smiling. He's small and has shoulder length golden blond hair, Rose's green eyes. Lin's identical.

"Rain wake you up?" He shakes his head and produces a thick black envelope with a blood red wax seal, my throat tightens.

"It was on my bed, but it has your name." He says softly, thoughtful as he stares at the envelope, I hug him tighter and tuck it into my robe pocket.

The time having come to go back.


	3. Vanya Hargreeves Is A Prodigy On The Weekdays.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya Hargreeves, musical prodigy and the disgraced second child of Reginald Hargreeves.

* * *

The light falls over my face and body, partly obscured by the curtains. The space besides me is empty and cold, she's _always_ up before me. There's an exhaustion in my bones, resting my head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering between open and closed. I regret everything about today and it hasn't even happened yet.

Today is a day I miss the pills. They're infrequent and nearly nonexistent since Tessa but they exist, in the cracks and beneath the shadows, lurking and waiting. I doubt I'll ever be truly free of the want for them. I hear the door creak open, familiar footsteps approaching and the faint ring of Puccini's collar, she laughs, always laughs at him and his stupid face, she calls my name softly, hand gentle against my arm, gentle nudge, my eyes flutter open and stay open.

"Hey, you." She greets, smiling as she kisses me chaste and soft, placing the tray of breakfast on my lap once I'm sat up against the headboard, Puccini jumps and sits in her place, I scratch under his chin, he purrs and Tessa smiles.

"How're you feeling?" I resist rolling my eyes at the question, she sees this and kisses away the annoyance as I eat the toast she brought me, three pieces of brown toast, two eggs and a glass of orange juice with a side of an apple, a tiny tub of blueberry jam and strawberries. I doubt I'll eat it all, partly cause it's a lot and partly cause she's nibbling on a strawberry with the promise of taking another.

"How am I meant to feel? The man who abused me and my siblings for the most of our childhood has died, sorry, not died but _murdered."_ I say, frustrated and tired all at once. I hated him, he destroyed any and everything good. The world is better without him in it yet - 

"He was also your dad, you're allowed to feel sad." I scoff and pick at a corner of toast. I'm allowed, sure. But I'm not meant to be. I don't want to be anything but happy, free. I hate that I'm not, hate that, no matter how small a part, a part is still grieving for him. I hate myself for it.

"Wish I could just hate him, would be easier." I sigh, chancing a look to Tessa who looks at me a thoughtful expression, quiet and gentle. Everything about her is gentle. Soft edges and curves and circles and globes. Nothing harsh or ugly, no jagged pieces or steep slopes.

"You don't know if it would be easier, _only_ hating him. What if you just felt more angry now that he's dead? Having that piece of grief, Vanya, isn't something to be ashamed of." She wraps me up in her arms, Puccini moves as she climbs back into her space and cuddles me to her chest. I hide away in the safety of her embrace.

It's the comfort I need, I let the tears fall down my cheeks and I think of him, the one or two good ones I have with him in. The only time he ever read me a story before bed, he was a good storyteller. Did the voices and made grand gestures when a battle happened or the bad guys appeared.

"It'll be okay." She promises, picking up another strawberry, I nod and try to believe her. Rest my head back against her shoulder and resume eating. I wonder about the others as I do.

I wonder how Five's doing? Know this will probably be the hardest on him. He never stopped believing that we'd all return home one day, I guess in some sick way he's got his wish. I wonder if the others will show up at all?

Luther probably out of some twisted sense of duty towards dad, Diego for mum, Allison _for_ Luther. No-one would be showing up to say goodbye to dad, I didn't blame them. He wasn't a good father and he knew it, owned it like a badge of honour. I shake the thoughts from my head. Unwilling to revisit my childhood anymore than I already have today.

"What time do we have to go?" I ask once breakfast is finished and we're in the kitchen, I'm washing and Tessa's drying. She puts the plate on the rack.

"Not for a few more hours, I've packed a case for each of us, Puccini's getting picked up later, all you have to do is get dressed and relax." I smile at her as I hand her the cup. I don't know what I'd do without her here besides me for this.


	4. Klaus Hargreeves Is A Man Of Emotions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus Hargreeves, the boy who went to war and returned a man the second son of Reginald Hargreeves.

* * *

"No! I would rather wax my arse with chocolate, _again_!" He yells, storming through the apartment, perfectly aware of how childish he's being. How dramatic he sounds. But there was not a single hope in all the world of him going to his father's funeral.

"Klaus!" Dave calls after him, trying to keep up with him whilst juggling four very full and heavy shopping bags as well as the three Klaus had abandoned at the door where they had found the envelope that had caused the current situation they were in. Klaus hadn't even opened the damn letter and he was already pacing and yelling. Dave hoped pointlessly that Klaus would resist smashing any of his favourite decorations.

_"How_ does he always do this? _Just_ when I'm all happy and - " He picks up the vase Dave brought only last week and threw it across their living-room, smashing it into dazzling shards. Klaus didn't react, Dave groaned and buried his face in his hands. Exasperated more than anything else.

" _THIS IS A SICK JOKE OLD MAN_!" He howls at the ceiling, dramatic as ever. Dave puts the kettle on and starts searching for a replacement vase on his phone. Wonders vaguely where Ben is and if he'll be showing up before Klaus gets around to destroying things in _his_ room.

"I'm making tea, do you want one?" Dave calls over the sound of Klaus smashing up the sofas and the photos hanging on the walls and dotted around the room on tables and the mantle. He doesn't hear him but he gets a cup out for him anyway. A breakdown always improves with a cup of tea.

" _Every bloody time_! And I'm not joking! This one time I was getting off with this gorgeous - " Dave looks at him over his shoulder, raised eyebrows as Klaus trails off for a few moments, clarity at last! It _doesn't_ last.

"Anyway! He barges into my room and pulls the poor guy off of me - I _say_ poor guy but _he_ wasn't the one who has a di - " Dave snaps and throws a cup of water at him, splashes his face and he's stunned into silence, stares at Dave for a few minutes before he sinks to the floor and begins sobbing, shards of glass cutting viciously into his bare knees and the palms of his hands, Dave goes to him after putting the cup down.

Embraces him as he curls into his chest, fragile as the glass around them, holds him as he mutters incoherently and shakes. Like a child terrified. Dave's only ever seen him like this once before. When they were fighting, _when Klaus thought he'd died_. His heart breaks all over again seeing him like this.

He kisses the crown of his head, cradles his body into his arms and stands, glad that he had kept his shoes on as he makes his way through the smashed up living-room and into the bathroom. Klaus shaking and sobbing as he puts him on the shut toilet seat and starts running a bath for him.

"He's not here, Klaus. He's not here." Dave whispers as he peppers his tear stained face with chaste kisses of comfort, the room fills with steam as Dave gets tweezers, a needle, thread and bandages for Klaus' hands and knees, knows there's disinfectant already tucked away in the cupboard above the sink.

"It's like I'm back there," Dave looks at Klaus, finds him staring at him. Eyes bloodshot and glassy. He remembers those eyes from a different time, he suppresses the memory.

"In that room, _with them_ , I _can't_ get it out of my head, Dave. No matter - " He breaks off, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, barely breathing as I kneel down and run my fingers through his hair, kiss him and coo reassurances as I carefully begin to undress him.

"You're here, Klaus. Not in that room and you're never going back to that room. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, I love you." He says soft, vows it like their wedding vows and slowly he strips Klaus and helps him into the steaming water, he whines and hisses when his cuts meet the water. Cusses Dave out until it passes and he's sinking low in the water while Dave picks out the pieces of glass from his body.

They both remember a time where there were far worst things being taken from Klaus' body by Dave. Neither voice these memories.

_They are only memories._


	5. Allison Hargreeves Is A Mother Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison Hargeeves, the star of the Hargreeves children and the favourite daughter of her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

Allison couldn't deny how lucky she is, she has a beautiful daughter and husband who loves her. She lives in a lovely home in a city that she adores. She works on the weekends for a magazine she's adored since she was just a teenager dancing around her room. She is incredibly lucky.

It's easy to forget this staring at the black envelope sitting squarely on her dining table. It's easy to forget all the magical, wonderful, things in her life as she holds the expensive ribbon it had been wrapped up in in her fingers. She's glad Patrick's out, glad that Claire's at a party. She doesn't know how she'd explain everything to her.

She smiles a little, habit from every other time she thinks of her Claire Bear. How could she explain that the man she denies any existence of has died and not only that she doesn't have any choice in going to his funeral or not. She could kid herself, like the rest of her siblings were probably doing, but it wouldn't be the right thing to do.

It's an unspoken Hargreeves law, go home when there is death.

Her phone rings just as she plans to burn the stupid little bit of paper. She picks it up, checks the ID and feels a new wave of emotions wash over her as she picks up the call and puts the phone to her ear.

"Allison." It's a soft breeze on a hot summer's night. Takes her back to their teenage years, every time they speak she's always taken to somewhere else. Happier times, the few she has of her childhood at least.

"Luther." She says, smiling slipping into her voice just like when she talks about Claire.

"Did you - ?" There's no need to finish the sentence, they both know Luther wouldn't just phone unplanned for anything else. Even now they still have their boundaries, it's for the best. The best for everyone.

"Yeah, was on the table when I got home." She says, swallowing as he gaze falls back on the glaringly black envelope, Luther lets out a sigh, one that shows his age, heavy and tired. Allison wishes she could be besides him instead of separated by miles of distance, _and the rest_. But they don't talk about the rest.

"A part of me doesn't believe it, I feel like he's just playing a sick joke but - " Allison understands, their father was always capable of anything, maybe it is a sick joke? The thought had crossed her mind.

"Feels different." She acknowledges after they lapse into silence, Luther hums, sighs again and murmurs a soft 'god.' Allison imagines him touching her cheek as he does, imagines so much until there's yelling and laughter in the background of Luther's call. The twins.

"Look, Allison, I've gotta go. The twins - " Allison winces and squeezes her eyes shut, tears falling down her cheeks as she takes a deep breath and quickly talks so Luther doesn't have to. Saves him from it.

"Yeah, no, I've gotta get Claire's dinner on and Patrick will be home soon too - Listen, Luther, I'll be seeing you soon, take care." She's gone before he responds, hangs the phone up and grips the table for support, her chest feels constricted, throat strangled. _Choked._


	6. Diego Hargreeves Is A Man With A Stutter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego Hargreeves, the boy who never looked back, third son of Reginald Hargreeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

" - Come on, when are we gonna be in Paris again? We have to go see it!" Patch grins as she walks up the stairwell, looking over her shoulder at me, knowing she's already won the argument. I laugh and shake my head at her as we go. I couldn't deny she has a point, we wouldn't be back in Paris for the best part of a year so who am I to deny her wish of a little sightseeing before we jet off again.

I don't argue further as we walk through the threshold of our little apartment, splitting off as she goes to pack away her newly purchased outfits and I head to the kitchen to dump the groceries. Unfortunately my good mood is scuppered when I found it on the counter.

Glaringly obvious, black contrasting to the white marble tops.

There's not much question as to what the envelope is, but I still find myself picking it up quickly, as if it would disappear if I didn't act fast. Maybe I act so fast so Patch wouldn't come looking for me. I rush off to the study, hide away behind the heavy oak desk as I tear the thick paper open and pull out the letter waiting within, I touch it hesitantly, as if it could come alive and bite my fingers to bone. Irrational, he always made everyone irrational.

I read the slanted writing, so neat and careful, words that don't make sense as I read them over and over, as if there's a hidden message within them, a twisted joke, he never was above making you out as a fool, I feel myself breathing and blinking but I feel as if I'm not, like I'm not even here anymore. Patch finds me, she's grinning, wearing one of the fancy dresses she brought, she looks gorgeous but I can't seem to find the words to tell her so.

"Baby?" She sees that I'm not okay, she's by my side without every having seen her move, her arms around me as she takes the letter that I found myself offering her. She reads it and drops it back onto the desk, holds me tighter as she pieces together what's happening.

I feel mechanical as she holds me and promises me that we'll get through everything that's coming, I want to believe her but I can't, not yet. I know I'm crying, somewhere deep inside of my head, I know I'm reacting but I can't seem to make my body and my face and my mind sync up, can't function how I know I'm meant to be. 

She leaves me sitting in the small living-room, food and water set on the coffee table in case I want something, she's making arrangements, cancelling flights and reservations and making new ones, ones neither of us want.

I know how she feels, she's sad I'm sad, but she's not sad about dad, she's not sad he's been murdered, she's happy, I see it no matter how much she's trying to hide it, I don't blame her, I know there's a part of me that hopes his death was slow and painful. I hope it was everything he deserved, maybe more. I know Patch feels the same.

"Everything's done, baby. We fly out tomorrow, I spoke to Dave." She says Dave and I wonder how Klaus and Ben are holding up? Wonder if their just as fucked up right now as I am? Probably worst, Klaus had it the worst. Patch wraps her arms around me as kisses my jaw, chaste and comforting.

"I wish I could take away your pain." She says softly as we lay back, I wipe away the stray tear from her cheek as kiss her.

"I know." I say because everything else feels fake and forced and already established. She holds herself close to me as I let my eyes fall shut.

He's really gone.


	7. Ben Hargreeves Is A Man Alive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Hargreeves, the boy who ran before he could walk, the fifth child of Reginald Hargreeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

The flat's quiet, deadly quiet, which is never a good sign. Especially when Dave and Klaus are involved.

There's smashed glass all over the floors and shopping still packed up in bags on the counters, I guess Klaus and Dave got into a fight, although that doesn't explain the silence. They never finish fighting in silence, there's always noise, whether from them or something they put on, there is always noise, neither could stand silence for long, an after effect of the war, not that they'd ever admit to such a thing. I let the door fall shut behind me, signalling to whoever's still here that I'm home. It's always a good idea to announce your presence, they never like being sneaked up on.

I ignore the smashed glass all over the floor, that's Klaus' job to clear up, there's no way Dave did something so destructive, he loves those vases, I instead pay attention to the shopping bags, slowly unpack the carefully ordered items, putting them in their designated spots as I hear a door open and shut and footsteps grow closer.

"Hey, Ben." Dave greets, he's wearing a pair of boots and black boxer briefs, it's the weirdest stripper show I've ever seen, I give him a nod as I put the eggs and milk in the fridge, he looks tired and just - Weird. Definitely something Klaus did then.

"So, what happened?" I ask, putting the bread in the bread bin, Dave takes a seat at the breakfast bar, rubs the back of his neck as he looks around the flat, maybe he didn't properly take in all the damage done, or maybe he's avoiding answering me, must be bad then.

"You might wanna take a seat." He says finally, barely looking at me, I snort and lean against the kitchen counter, no way has it ever been so bad that Dave's felt the need to tell to sit down, what the fuck's happened? I don't sit, instead cross my arms over my chest and wait, Dave hesitates and looks all around the flat, some crazy conflict going on in his eyes as he does, I wait until I don't want to anymore and just tell him to spit out whatever's he has to.

He produces it then. I regret ever wanting it. Fuck.

"No." I say turning my back and packing away the vegetables left in the bags.

"Ben - " I shake my head and turn back around, shaking my head firmly, no, no, no, no.

"No, Dave. No." He looks as if he's going to say something but thinks better, instead he just puts the envelope down on the counter between us and gets up.

"I'm gonna check on Klaus, try not to smash anything up, if you do though just be careful." He says, resignation in his voice, as if he's accepted that the flat won't survive another Hargreeves' wrath. I feel bad but maybe not bad enough to control myself because I do find myself smashing up whatever Klaus failed to do himself, it helps, if only for a minute.

It helps and I think, somewhere between my anger and grief, that Dave knows it helps and that's why he's not mad about it.

He always understands, that's why he's so perfect for Klaus.

Klaus only ever needed someone to understand him.

If only partly.


	8. Five Hargreeves Is A boy Without A Name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five Hargreeves, the only Hargreeves to reject his birth name, the youngest child of Reginald Hargreeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

Mum's sad although it doesn't make a lot of sense she is, she always hated dad, even when they were together, she never loved him, I think she married him to rebel against her parents, I think she always regretted it. She never loved him but she's crying over him. Grieving as she plans his funeral.

I don't understand.

I'm sad but I know I shouldn't be, I know he did stuff to the others, I'm too young to know, I'm not but everyone insists I am, I don't get it. Maybe they don't like that I don't get it but that's not my fault, that's their fault for not explaining well enough.

Dolores stays with me most nights after I get my own letter, I didn't think I would considering I still saw him on the weekends, I say saw, I spent one lunch with him every Saturday and then he fucked off and I was left to my own devices, I didn't get why I had to go but mum never let me skip so I always went, I always resented it, I'm glad I won't have to go back again, Dolores thinks this is the wrong way to react to finding out my father's died, murdered no less, I say it's perfectly normal.

We don't argue about it, she just accepts it's another thing about me that doesn't quite make sense, whatever, she's the one that insists on staying by me.

I know they're all coming back when mum starts cleaning, starts making up rooms and telling me to tidy up my room, I don't, I don't care if their coming.

I just want her to stop being sad, but I know that's unrealistic.

Diego calls mum, I know he does because I'm always ushered away when he does, I don't know what they talk about but I hear mum laugh so I know she's not more upset when she talks to him, I guess I'm a little jealous that Diego can still make her laugh. I try not to be but I am, it's just one of those things. I don't dwell.


	9. Grace Hargreeves Is A Wife No More.

* * *

He's dead and I don't feel anything, well, anything I thought I would. I cry a lot but that's because I know what's about to follow, what the kids will go through when they're made to come back. Even when he's dead he can't give them peace.

I hate it.

Allison texts and updates on how long it will take for her to come back, Luther's quickest with his journey, promises to return before the end of the week, I wish he wasn't so eager but I suppose that's his way of coping, i look forward to meeting the twins. 

Diego calls as much as he can, always makes me laugh, I know Five's jealous that I laugh when he calls but what else can I do? What can any of us really do?

We grieve despite our hatred of the dead, why can't we laugh too?


End file.
